


The Wild Man

by Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Jane!reader, tarzan!Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction/pseuds/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction
Summary: You’re a biologist, on a research trip with your father and brother- Steve- to the jungles of Africa in search of animals rarely seen and poorly documented. You’ve hired some muscle in the form of one gun-toting Brock Rumlow. While you’re out studying the local flora, a surprise leads you to a chance encounter with a wild man with piercing blue eyes… and not a single word of English.





	The Wild Man

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Tarzan!Bucky x Jane!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language (always), violence, blood
> 
> A/N: This is a Tarzan story. It’s not based strictly on either the novel(s), animated movie(s), TV show(s), or live action movie(s).

[Originally posted by flyngdream](https://tmblr.co/ZVy6Qn2JVrnFl)

**Forests of Angola - 1912**

“Father! Father? Where are y- oh!” 

Your father, Doctor Archimedes Q. (Y/L/N), poked his head out of the tent the second you were about to open it, surprising the both of you. 

“What is it, (Y/N)? Did you find something? Did something happen? Is Steven okay? Are you alright? Do I need to get-”

You cracked a smile at your father’s fussing and help up your hands in appeasement. “No, no, father. It’s alright. Nothing’s the matter. I just wanted to let you know I’m going into the field to catalogue new species for a bit,” you said with a smile.

Your father frowned. “Alone? Are you sure that’s wise? You should at least take your brother-”

“Father, I’ll be alright. I’m not going very far. Besides, Steven is busy finishing his drawings of the species we spotted yesterday,” you said, melancholy sigh leaving your lips at his worry over you. 

His frown only deepened, however. “Then take Brock. He may not be the most subtle man, but at least he knows how to handle a gun.”

You glanced over at Brock Rumlow- the man your father had hired for protection for the expedition- and frowned. You didn’t like the man. He was cold, crude, and always rubbed you the wrong way, even if he’d never done anything to hurt you. “No… I won’t be doing that,” you said as tactfully as possible, giving your father a peck to the forehead before turning on your heel and walking out of camp, leaving your father sputtering in your wake.

[Originally posted by crivil](https://tmblr.co/ZtA70s2AK9bJW)

The jungle was never quiet. Birds and animals were always calling back and forth amongst themselves. Leaves rustled on their branches. Streams and rivers babbled in the distance. 

You’d begun to grow used to the background noise. It was a huge difference between your home (New York), but a welcome one. New York was all noise, too, but it was nice to be away from the crush of people that you’d grown up with. It was often stifling. 

That was why when, in the middle of your careful notes on the new flora you’d come across, the sudden silence startled you. 

You paused, glancing up from your notes and the plant, and looked around slowly. You weren’t sure exactly when it’d started getting quieter, but all of the animals were silent now; only the insects, plants, and rivers still made noise.

Your brother may be the zoologist, but you knew enough to recognize that the silence meant one thing.

Danger. 

You stood slowly and pulled a knife out of the folds of your dress. Every twitch of a leaf, every rustle of a branch looked like danger. Your eyes searched fruitlessly for whatever had caused the animals in the area to go silent, spinning on the spot slowly, knife held out in front of you. 

You were just beginning to think you were being paranoid when you heard it: a low, feral growl that spread fear through you like a wildfire. You turned slowly towards the source, not wanting to make any sudden moves that would startle it into striking. 

There, creeping out from the underbrush some thirty feet away, was a fearsome leopard. Its fangs were drawn, a fierce snarl spilling forth from its lips as it stalked towards you, murder in its emerald eyes. 

You froze, fear coursing through you. If Steve were here he’d know what to do (though he was so small you likely had a better chance at fighting this thing and winning, anyway). 

You raised the dagger and made yourself look as imposing as possible, but the leopard didn’t so much as flinch. It was only twenty feet away now. 

“Get back, you! I _will_ hurt you if I have to!” you yelled, voice wavering as you brandished the knife in its direction. 

Apparently yelling was the wrong thing to do, though, because it leapt towards you with a snarl, claws digging deep into the rich soil to propel itself towards you at a frightening speed. 

You couldn’t help the horrified scream that ripped from your throat, free hand going up to shield your face. 

_Oh my god, I’m going to die. Actually_ die _. Ripped to shreds by a jungle cat. Steve and Papa will have no idea what happened to me._

It hit you like a freight train, sending you flying. 

… but it didn’t hurt, and you _kept flying_. 

You opened your eyes- _when did I close my eyes?_ \- and realized the jungle was flying past you at an alarming speed. The pressure on your waist hadn’t abated and you looked down to it, expecting to see yellow fur, spots, and claws, but instead found… an arm? A human arm? 

Your fear-fogged brain followed the arm up to where it connected to the person attached to it, and you let out a gasp as you laid eyes on the person carrying you seemingly effortlessly through the trees, swinging from vine to vine (one-armed, too!).

It was a man. 

And not just a man. One of the most breathtakingly gorgeous (if not rather filthy) men you’d ever seen in your life. His hair was long, worked into dreadlocks that seemed as filthy as the rest of him, and a scraggly beard covered the lower half of his face. 

Then, your brain started to work again, and you realized you were being carried off to who-knew-where by a wild man. You’d thought all those stories about wild men of the bush were just bed time stories your father had told you, but here this man was, in the flesh. 

You began banging frantically against his arm. “I demand you take me down to the ground! This is appalling! Unhand me! I will not just let you kidnap me! I’d rather take another crack at the leopard! Let me down, I say!” you demanded, scrabbling against his arm and shoulder. 

He barely seemed to notice, though he did swing to a large branch of a huge tree with ease and set you down. You wobbled dangerously in your boots and and he thrust a hand out to steady you, but you slapped his hand away. “No! Get back, wild man!” you screamed, taking a step back on the thick branch. 

He froze, ice blue eyes looking you up and down in concern. It was a truly startling contrast; his skin was so dirty that his eyes almost looked ghostly. 

[Originally posted by buckaholic](https://tmblr.co/ZHQVyc2PXWk7r)

“Yes, that’s right! Stay… stay _right there_ ,” you said, hands held up in between you like some thin mockery of a defense. 

It was then that you realized he was completely naked. “Oh my goodness!” you gasped. One of your hands flew to cover your eyes before you realized he was probably a threat that you shouldn’t stop looking at and you quickly removed it, but used it to hide the lower half of his body from your view. 

He was covered in scars, especially his left arm. The skin there was so marked up from past wounds it was more scars than not. You almost wondered what had happened to him to give him those.

His brow furrowed as he studied you. You almost thought he’d finally understood, but then he took a step forward. Your hand flew up, palm outstretched. “I said stop!” you trilled, voice wavering. One look at the muscles on his body and you knew you had about the same chances of surviving against the leopard as you did if he decided to attack you. 

However, he only raised a hand, mirroring your position, and slowly extended it until your hands touched. 

You froze at the contact, watching his reaction slowly. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as the tips of his fingers curled over yours. 

The simple contact seemed to encourage him and all at once he stepped forward, placing his hand to your chest, just above your heart. You glanced down at it then back up at him, mind working a mile a minute. He wasn’t touching with an open palm or with his fingertips. No… he was using his knuckles. It was odd. 

“Ah… um…?” you sputtered, keeping still in the hopes he wouldn’t hurt you.

His hand traveled to your hair, tugging on it experimentally, still holding his hand in that odd way. You shuffled in place nervously as he took a step forward, finally closing the distance between you, and leaned in to sniff your hair. 

“You… you have to know this is odd…” you muttered, glancing everywhere but at the thing between his legs. 

You closed your eyes as his head traveled downwards, sniffing at your skin as he went. 

“This… this is highly irregular, sir! I can’t say my father would be pleased if he saw this…” you muttered weakly as his face traveled from your neck… to your chest…

“You did save my life so I guess I can… make an effort to embrace your customs…” you mumbled as he worked his way down your body. 

When he got to your crotch and stayed there, though, you drew the line. 

“Oh, I _do not_ think so, wild man!” you cried, shoving away from him as hard as you could.

… But he didn’t budge, which meant you’d just pushed yourself off the tree limb and were now falling towards the ground… thirty feet below.

You cried out in shock, but before you’d made it more than two feet his hand shot out to grab you, wrapping securely around your wrist. You dangled there for a moment. Once again, the only thing saving you from the jaws of death was the man above you. That was two times, now, though you weren’t sure if you counted the second one as it was his fault in the first place. He hoisted you back up after a moment with surprising ease, wrapping an arm around your waist before setting you carefully back down onto the tree limb. 

“Th- thank you…” you mumbled, cheeks heating as you looked up at him. With him this close it was hard to think.

He released you, though, and took a half step back, eyes roaming your body once more as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

That made two of you.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), we heard screaming! Please, sister! Say something!” 

You gasped in surprise and turned around, trying to pinpoint the sound of Steve’s frantic cries. 

“Steve! Stevie, I’m here!” you yelled, trying to get a glimpse of his mop of blond hair through the trees. 

“Oh, thank goodness! I see her, Steve!” you heard your father yell. Sure enough, he popped into view a moment later, followed closely by Steve and Brock, who was toting a large rifle and glancing around the forest with a watchful, paranoid eye. 

“Father! Steve!” you said, relief rushing through you. For once, you were glad for Brock’s guns. If that leopard returned you might all live to tell the tale. “Oh!” you gasped. In all the excitement of finding your compatriots, you’d forgotten about the wild man. You turned, only to find the space he’d just been occupying a moment before completely empty. Not even the twitch of a branch, a rustle of a leaf, or a patch of crushed moss gave away that he’d ever been there in the first place. 

Your heart fell. You hadn’t meant to scare him off.

“How… how did you get up there, sister?” Steve yelled up to you, obviously confused. 

“That’s a story for after I get back down!” you yelled back, grinning as he covered his eyes so he couldn’t see up your dress. 

“And… just how do you propose to do that?” your father asked, mustache twitching worriedly as he eyed the huge tree in concern.

“Well, I had an idea…”

* * *

The four of you were standing in the tent, the netting protecting you from the horrid mosquitoes that plagued all of you. A large map of the area was on the desk that you were leaning against. A couple of oil lamps lit the tent with a warm glow, as it was starting to get dark out now.

“You were attacked by a leopard?” Steve asked, both appalled and interested. You’d been trying to find leopards and gorillas for months, to no avail. 

“Well, technically no. It never got to the attacking part,” you mumbled sheepishly before taking a sip of the tea your father had made you.

“Yes… you said you were saved by some… wild man?” Brock asked, looking like he believed your story was a load of crock. 

You nodded, though, and ignored his tone. “He was tall; at least six feet. Dark hair. Grey-blue eyes. Scars everywhere, especially on his left arm. Very strong. He swung in on a vine and carried me off right before the leopard could get to me!” you explained excitedly. 

Your father and Steve exchanged glances and you could tell that even they were having trouble believing you. 

“He didn’t say anything?” Steve asked as he crossed his arms. 

You took a sip of tea then shook your head. “Nope, not a word! But I haven’t even told you the best part yet!” you said, practically vibrating in your seat with excitement.

“Well, do go on, then,” your father said, brow furrowed in interest.

“I thought it was odd, at first. His mannerisms. They reminded me of something. More specifically, a certain animal,” you said, secret smile on your face. You paused for dramatic effect and your brother rolled his eyes. 

“Get on with it, sister.” 

“His behavior was like that of a gorilla! He was using the social cues of western lowland gorillas!” you trilled excitedly, wide smile on your face.

Steve brightened visibly at that and sat forward, suddenly 100% more interested. “You’re sure?” he asked, unwilling to get his hopes up. It had been a year without a single sighting, after all.

You nodded eagerly. “I may not be as proficient in zoology as you, Stevie, but I know grooming behavior of gorillas well enough by now.”

Steve looked confused again. “He groomed you?” 

Your cheeks heated again and you glanced away. “Of sorts, yes.”

There was a pause. 

Your father had turned an ugly shade of puce. “Are you saying-”

“No! No, goodness no! He just mussed up my hair, is all. Held his hand in a very specific way to do it, too,” you explained quickly. 

“Show me,” Steve said immediately, closing the distance between the two of you in a heartbeat. 

You did your best to mimic it, but you hadn’t spent years walking on your hands and legs, so it was a pale imitation. 

Steve, though, nodded thoughtfully as you reached over and grabbed the lapels of his shirt like the wild man had grabbed your hair. Satisfied you’d made your point, your hand dropped back to your side. 

He glanced at the map on the table behind you, before nodding resolutely. “Do you think you can find him again?”

You smiled at him, and he returned it, the same inquisitive spark in both of your gazes. “I’d like to try.”

* * *

As it turned out, you didn’t have to search very hard.

In fact, you didn’t have to search at all. 

Your day had been so exhausting that you didn’t wake up at first when something ghosted over your cheek. When it persisted, though, you started to rouse from your death-like sleep, finally sitting bolt upright when you remembered you were in the jungle and something going across your cheek was almost definitely a bad thing. 

When you laid your eyes on the wild man, sitting bold as brass in your tent and staring right at you, you let out a shocked shriek of surprise. 

He looked surprised by your outburst and reeled backwards, eyes widening as he searched the tent for the danger you obviously saw. Seeing none, he turned back to you, brows pulled together in confusion. 

He went tense suddenly and whirled to face the entrance placing himself between you and the door. 

A second later Steve and Brock burst through it, the latter with a gun pointed directly at the wild man, who immediately hunched over defensively, a feral growl on his lips. 

“Wait! Brock no! This is the man I was telling you about!” you yelled, drawing the attention of both Brock and Steve. Steve relaxed marginally when he saw you unharmed, but Brock kept his gun pointed at the wild man. “Brock, _please_ put the gun down. I don’t think he’s going to hurt us,” you pleaded. Brock might have a chance against this man, but Steve sure didn’t, and he was between the two. 

You couldn’t see the wild man’s face, but his posture made it clear he thought the other two men were threats. 

Reluctantly, Brock lowered the gun, but the man didn’t relax. 

“You… you should get out. Let me see if I can calm him down,” you said, looking to Steve beseechingly. 

“But sis-”

“Steve, please. I don’t know what he’s capable of, but I think he’s our best bet at finding the gorillas. I don’t want to lose this opportunity because the two of you scared him off,” you insisted.

Steve stared at you for a moment before glancing at the wild man, who was staring at him with those light blue eyes that almost glowed in the darkness, before nodding. “C’mon Brock. Let’s go,” he murmured, backing out of the tent slowly. Brock stood there for a moment longer before he, too, started to leave.

“We’ll be nearby. Call for us if he gets out of hand and we’ll come running,” he said, staring at you over the man’s shoulder. The wild man moved until you were completely hidden behind him.

“I will. Thank you, Brock.”

You heard the tent flap close and it was only then that the man relaxed a margin. He turned back to you, eyes searching you, the curiosity from before returning tenfold. 

“Hello,” you said quietly, smiling up at him tentatively. 

“He-llo,” he mimicked, the word sounding blocky and uncomfortable in his mouth. 

You tilted your head as you regarded him. “Do you speak English?” 

He squatted at the edge of your bed and mirrored your movement, his head tilting to the side. “Do you speak English?” he muttered in that raspy, deep voice. 

You smiled that that. “I’ll take that as a no.” 

As before, he imitated your smile. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Você fala português?” you asked curiously, hoping he might speak the language of the country. 

“Você fala português?” he mimicked, matching your tone and inflection word for word.

You laughed at that. The sound filled the tent and the wild man tilted his head as he considered you. 

After a moment you quieted and thought. What were you going to do with this man? He didn’t seem to pose a danger (to you, at least). He’d saved your life twice, and he seemed curious and inquisitive. 

Suddenly, he leaned forward and placed his hands to his chest. “Bucky,” he said slowly, enunciating each syllable carefully as he thumped his chest lightly a few times. 

You raised your eyebrows in confusion. You assuredly hadn’t said _“Bucky,”_ whatever that was. 

He paused, gauging your reaction, before he repeated it, a little more quickly this time. “Bucky.”

Then, it hit you. “Oh, is that your name?” you asked excitedly, scooting towards the edge of the bed. 

The man smiled and pressed a hand to your chest. “Oh, is that your name?” he repeated, his voice higher than usual as he imitated your tone. 

You laughed and shook your head. “No no no no no.”

He shook his head and repeated your words again. “No no no no no.”

You laughed again, amused by his antics. You gently took his hand in yours. He tensed a bit, but relaxed when you imitated the gesture by placing your hand on his chest just like he did. “Bucky,” you said quietly, watching his clever eyes as he studied your motions. You took the hand that was on your chest and lifted it slightly before placing it back. “(Y/N).” 

He glanced down to your hand then back up to your face. You froze as he lifted his other hand and placed it on your cheek, his rough knuckles brushing against it gently. “(Y/N).” 

Your heart thudded unfairly hard in your chest. If this man was this attractive while he was this filthy, you could barely fathom what he’d look like with a bath, haircut, and shave. Also, maybe some clothes. As nice as the view was you didn’t think you could take another moment of this man being naked without exploding. 

“Bucky,” you said suddenly. His gaze snapped to yours and he studied you carefully. “Would you like to learn?” 

He cocked his head to the other side and his blue eyes ran over your face in confusion. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

* * *

[Originally posted by lovelynemesis](https://tmblr.co/ZVOuzi2O-LpFl)

Teaching Bucky was like teaching a precocious child. He was intelligent, learned fast, and had a curiosity that couldn’t be sated (he also caused a lot of trouble). At first, he’d been wary of Steve, Brock, and your father, but seemed to relax a bit when he realized what they were to you (he was still a bit leery of Brock, though, and you didn’t blame him). You, Bucky, and Steve would sit in the big tent for hours at a time, going through pictures and children’s books. You went through boxes of chalk teaching him on the white board. Steve sometimes drew him and took notes on the peculiar calluses he had from walking on his hands and knees his entire life. Your father would sometimes pull the projector out and show Bucky slide after slide of images of the outside world. One time there had been a slide of a man and woman dancing and Bucky had grabbed your hands and traipsed merrily around the tent, dragging you laughing along with him. He took you and Steve to places you never would have thought to look in search of animals you’d yet to record. Thanks to Bucky’s help, you catalogued more species in the weeks you were with him than in the months beforehand. Getting him to wear pants around the camp had been a challenge and he flat out refused to wear a shirt. He left the pants on the border of the camp, stripping as soon as he left and dressing as soon as he arrived. Your father had even shown him how to shave and you were right. He _was_ more handsome underneath that scraggly beard and layer of grime. A haircut from Steve and suddenly he looked like a completely different man.

The days flew by but only one person seemed fed up with the progress. 

Brock. 

Bucky was in the tent, reading a children’s book with Steve, when Brock approached you and your father. 

“Time is wasting. The boat will be here any day. Ask him about the gorillas,” Brock said tersely, glaring down at you and your father. 

As much as you hated the man, he was right. Your time in Angola was limited, and the boat could show up any day to return all of you to the United States. 

You sighed and nodded. Brock looked a bit more satisfied than before, and the three of you made your way towards Bucky. 

“Bucky?” you asked softly, drawing both his and Steve’s attention. 

His eyes softened as he gazed at you. “Mm?” he grunted. You smiled. He was still working on using his words and sometimes reverted to grunts and growls. 

“I was wondering… if you could take us to the gorillas?” you asked cautiously. He didn’t talk about them much, though you’d long confirmed he’d been raised by them.

He looked away from you, gaze burning a hole into the ground. 

“Do… do you understand?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked back up at you, and you could tell from his body language he was conflicted. 

“I… understand,” he said, unable to hold your gaze. 

“Great! Then take us to the beasts immediately!” Brock said, pushing past you and your father. Steve frowned at Brock’s words, as did you. 

Bucky looked pensive. “I can’t,” he said, looking apologetic but resigned. 

Brock, however, looked murderous. “What do you mean you can’t?” he said angrily, taking a step towards Bucky. 

You glanced between the two men, sensing danger. 

Bucky, however, didn’t even seem to see Brock as a threat. He stared down at his left arm for a moment before speaking again. “Kerchak,” he said simply before turning on his heel and running out of the camp. 

“Bucky! Wait, Bucky!” you said, running after him. He was much faster than you, though, and you lost sight of him almost immediately. 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), wait!” you heard Steve call after you.

That didn’t stop you, though. You were worried about the way he’d left. You’d never seen him like that before and you were worried he might never return. Gorillas or no, you’d come to care about him a great deal and you didn’t want to return to America without at least having said goodbye. 

You ran through the trees, searching the canopy as you went for the arboreal man. You’d learned just as much in your time with him as he’d learned from you, but you still didn’t have the strength and skill to swing through the trees like he did. Even then, you moved through the jungle with an ease you hadn’t possessed before. 

You could barely hear anything over the sound of your feet stomping through the debris on the ground or the blood pounding in your ears, so it came as a complete surprise when something hit you like a freight train, knocking you to the ground like a rag doll. 

Your breath left you in a whoosh and you gasped for air, which turned out to be a mistake, because you got a lung full of leopard breath. 

The large cat stood over you, lips pulled up in a snarl that froze your blood in your veins. 

“Bucky!” you screamed, high and fearful. 

God, please. Please let him be nearby. Please-

The leopard growled and you let out a squeak of fear. It lunged, teeth the size of your pinky aimed straight for your jugular. 

That was when you heard it, though it took a second for it to break past the haze of fear dulling your senses. 

A yell. One that you’d recognize anywhere. 

The leopard froze and quickly backed off of you, head swiveling as it tried to pinpoint the threat. 

Bucky dropped to the ground on the other side of the cat, effectively drawing its attention from you. He spared you only a glance to make sure you were unharmed before dropping into a low crouch. 

You watched with rapt attention as the two circled each other, both looking for a weakness. You backed up as slowly and quietly as you could, knowing you’d just be in the way when the fight broke out. 

Suddenly, the leopard lunged, and the fight began. 

It was a flurry of claws, fists, feet, and teeth. The fact that Bucky was able to even remotely hold his own was a testament to his physical prowess. 

But you could tell he was losing. Blood seeped from his wounds, slashes from the leopards claws practically tearing Bucky to ribbons. 

You had to help, or you were both going to die. 

_Think! Think think think!_

“Oh!” you gasped, plunging your hand into your boot. A second later, after some fishing around, you pulled out your dagger. You unsheathed it and looked back up to the fight and were horrified to find that Bucky had been pinned by the big cat. 

“Bucky! Catch!” you yelled, tossing the dagger to the trapped man. He glanced up from the big cat at you, just in time to see the dagger flying toward him. With reflexes you could only dream of having, he caught the hilt with the hand not currently keeping the leopard from sinking its teeth into his exposed jugular. 

With one swift motion he shoved the dagger into the leopard’s rib cage. Then again. And again. 

It let out a pained snarl, eyes widening as it jumped off of Bucky and stumbled back a few steps before finally collapsing.

Dead.

You rushed to Bucky’s side. He was hissing with pain, wounds seeping blood on the forest floor. 

“Bucky! Oh, god, don’t move!” you said quickly, tearing off your shirt. You had to stop the bleeding or he might not even make it back to the camp. 

He looked up at you, blood running into one of his eyes, gaze trusting and adoring. It made your heart thud in your chest as you ripped your shirt into long strips. 

One by one, you triaged the worst of the wounds, hoping you staunched the bleeding before it was too late. 

He watched you with those kind, intelligent blue eyes the whole time, not saying a word. 

“Can you walk, Bucky? We need to get you back to the camp,” you said, fingers gently brushing his blood-matted hair out of his face. 

He sat up slowly, wincing as the bandages pressured his wounds. “I can walk,” he said quietly, standing with some difficulty. 

You scrambled to your feet after him, jaw set in determination as you threw his arm over your shoulder and wrapped your arm gingerly around his waist.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, glancing down at you. 

You felt your cheeks heat. “Helping you.” At least, that was what you were attempting to do. You weren’t sure how much help you’d be, but you at least wanted to try. He only smiled down at you though, and your cheeks grew even hotter under his gaze. “We should get going. The longer we dally the worse off you’ll be.” 

“Mm,” he grunted his agreement. 

And just like that, the two of you hobbled your way back to the camp. 

* * *

When you returned, Steve and your father were in a tizzy, the panic only worsening when they saw Bucky bandaged and bleeding and you without a shirt (Steve covered his eyes and went a vibrant shade of red at the sight). Brock was sitting back in a chair and hardly looked to have moved at all since you’d left. Your father- the medical doctor for your expedition- quickly shuffled Bucky into your tent after you assured him it was alright and immediately set to work in saving Bucky’s life. The wounds might not be in danger of killing him, but if you weren’t careful, the infection might. 

An hour later your father wandered out of the tent, looking haggard. The moment he saw you staring at him from your spot in a chair next to the campfire, though, he gave you a small smile and nodded and you immediately relaxed. 

“Can I see him?” you asked anxiously, glancing at the tent door. 

“Yes, he should be alright. He’s very tough, that one,” your father said, smiling over his shoulder towards the tent. 

“Thank you!” you said, leaping up from your chair to hug him. He merely chuckled and watched you practically run to the tent. 

“My my…” he murmured as he watched you go, smile on his face. He’d been alive long enough to recognize that look in your eyes, even if you seemed none the wiser to it.

You opened the tent flap slowly, not wanting to startle Bucky. He was laying on your cot (your father had been kind enough to move your bedding out of the way first, which you appreciated), looking drained. He brightened, though, when you walked in, steel blue eyes following you as you walked a little farther in, grabbing your fold-up stool as you went. You placed it next to the head of the bed and sat down, unable to tear your gaze from him.

“Hello there,” you said, smiling softly at the man in front of you. 

“Hello,” he replied, tone just as soft. Whether from his lack of energy or something else, you couldn’t begin to guess at. 

“This is the third time you’ve saved my life now,” you said, reaching out slowly to take his hand in yours. 

He glanced down at where your fingers intertwined for a moment before looking back up to your face. 

“Five,” he said, small smile playing on his lips. 

“Five? What do you mean?” you asked, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Saved you five times, not three,” he said, smiling up at you. 

You thought about it in your head. There was the leopard the first time, then the time with the tree, and now the leopard again. That was definitely three. “No matter how many times I count it, I’m only coming up with three times,” you said. “Not to sound ungrateful!” you added quickly, which only made his smile grow. 

“Leopard. Tree. Snake. Frog. Leopard,” he said, counting them off with the fingers of his free hand. 

“Snake? Frog? I don’t remember anything about those,” you said, leaning against the side of the bed as you racked your brain for any reference to what he was talking about.

He merely smiled and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Snake tried to bite you in tree one day; When we studied parrots. Poison frog in camp coffee pot. Saved you without you noticing. I did not want you to worry,” he said softly. 

“I wish you had told me,” you said, frowning. 

His smile was chased away from his face. “Why are you sad?” he asked, clearly distressed. 

You ran your thumb over his hand soothingly and shook your head minutely as you stared at his scarred skin. “I would have liked to say thank you, is all,” you said, glancing up at him through your lashes. 

He relaxed a bit at this. “I am sorry. I did not know.” 

You smiled at him, and brought his hand up to your lips, ghosting a kiss over his knuckles. “It’s alright, Bucky. Thank you.”

It was so dark in the tent that you weren’t sure, but you thought you saw Bucky’s gaze darken marginally. It then dawned on you that you were very alone in a tent with a man and you stood to leave, but Bucky’s grip on your hand stopped you before you made it very far. 

“Stay, please,” he said, voice calm yet insistent. 

You didn’t turn around, knowing you’d say yes the second you looked into those big blue eyes. “I should let you get some sleep,” you said, though the words didn’t even sound convincing to your own ears.

“I would like it very much if you could read to me. It is relaxing,” he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

And, just like that, you caved. 

You turned to him, smile on your face; one he returned. “Alright, but just one story.”

* * *

One story turned into two, two turned into three, three turned into four, and by the time the sun came up, you found yourself asleep half on the bed. Your arms and torso were draped over the bed, but your butt was still planted firmly on the canvas folding stool. The book lay forgotten on the bed and your hand was still tangled with Bucky’s, neither of you letting go, even in your sleep. 

That is, until the ground began rumbling and you and Bucky both started awake. 

Your hair was everywhere, messy from sleep, and Bucky wasn’t much better off. You both glanced around, but whatever it was, the cause wasn’t inside your little tent. 

“Earthquake?” you muttered, voice thick from sleep. 

But the trumpeting blast of an elephant blew that theory right out of the water. 

You stood, your stool clattering over onto the ground as you did so. “What the-” 

“Tantor?” Bucky asked staring at the tent door with the utmost confusion. 

“Tantor? What on earth is a Tantor?” you asked, glancing between Bucky and the entrance to the tent in confusion.

Another bellowing trumpet blast and rumble of the ground answered your question for you.

“ _That_ is a Tantor,” Bucky said, wincing as he sat up slowly. 

“Wait, you know that elephant?” you asked, hands hovering over him worriedly as he stood shakily. 

There was a loud scream that you almost mistook for one of the guys for a moment, but it was quickly followed up by a noise you were beginning to think you’d never hear: the _oo oo oo_ of a gorilla. 

Bucky paled a bit and hobbled to the door as quickly as he could. He nearly fell once or twice, so you quickly threw his arm over your shoulder and helped him the rest of the way, throwing open the tent flap to reveal all the hullabaloo outside. 

There, running frantically around the camp, was a male African elephant and a female lowland gorilla. You saw Steve poking his head out of his tent in both shock and awe. Of all the ways you knew he thought he was going to see a gorilla, you were sure “trashing the camp” wasn’t one of them. 

To your immense relief, it seemed like Brock wasn’t in the camp at the moment. The last thing you needed was a baffoon brandishing a gun at an angry elephant and gorilla. It seemed like your father was off with him, however. 

“What are they doing?” you asked as you watched them cut a swath of destruction through the camp. 

“Looking for me…” Bucky murmured. Without another word he began making elephant and gorilla vocalizations. Immediately, the gorilla and elephant stopped their rampage and turned their attention to Bucky. 

Your eyes widened in horror as they both ran full tilt towards the two of you, the elephant stopping barely a few feet away. The gorilla, however, ran right up to Bucky and began assessing him, her vocalizations sounding worried as she studied his wounds. 

“Who is she? She’s absolutely gorgeous,” you said, watching the gorilla in awe. She was so close she could just reach out and-

The second you spoke, however, the female gorilla turned on you, teeth bared, and you felt a thrill of terror run down your spine. She may not be a cheetah or a silverback, but she was an undeniably powerful animal (with undeniably huge, sharp teeth).

Bucky, however, calmed her with a few “words” and she turned her attention to you. You giggled as her fingers tangled in your hair and played with the hem of your dress. “This is Terk. She is like a sister to me. She was worried when I did not come back last night and came with Tantor to search for me,” Bucky explained. 

You gasped as a trunk found it’s way to your face and hair, giggling as the prehensile nose found its way to your ear and inadvertently tickled you. 

“This is amazing…” 

All of your attention snapped to Steve, who was only a few feet away. Before things could escalate at his sudden appearance, though, Bucky “spoke” to them and calmed the situation. 

Terk ambled over to Steve, who stood stock-still (whether out of excitement or fear, you didn’t know). “B-Bucky?” he asked nervously as Terk grabbed the pencil from his hand. 

“She is just curious,” Bucky said, smiling as his two friends interacted with you and Steve. 

“A gorilla stole my pencil! This is amazing!” Steve said excitedly, pulling another one from his pocket so he could take notes and sketch Terk, who seemed too preoccupied by her new prize to care. 

Tantor, however, was still having fun with your dress. It seemed he found it amusing to flip it up and watch it flutter in the breeze. 

It was quite embarrassing for you, but you were too excited to care too much. After all, it was only Bucky and Steve. One constantly walked around mostly naked and the other was your brother. 

You weren’t sure how long you, Steve, Bucky, Terk, and Tantor hung about, but the loud, boisterous voice of your father signaled his and Brock’s return. 

“Bucky, quickly. They need to go. I don’t know how Brock will react to seeing them here.” 

“Come now, (Y/N). I’m sure Brock won’t-” 

“Are you willing to bet Terk’s life on that, Steve? Tantor’s?” you asked. Bucky frowned at your words. 

Steve glanced at Terk, who was staring curiously at some of Steve’s drawings and at Tantor, who was listening with rapt attention to the gramophone on the other side of camp which was playing classical music. After a moment, he shook his head. “No.”

You looked at Bucky and nodded. He searched your eyes for a moment then nodded, quickly telling Terk and Tantor to leave. They seemed confused at first, but eventually they both ran off, disappearing into the treeline.

Not a minute later, Brock and your father came traipsing into camp, both of them freezing as they spotted the various wrecked items around camp (namely a few pots and dishes and a couple seats). 

“What… what happened?” your father asked, looking to all of you in concern. “And why are you out of bed?” he asked sternly. 

“There was an elephant, father. A bull. He ran through the camp. We were able to scare him off, but it was a close thing,” you explained quickly. You saw Steve surreptitiously flip his drawing pad to a different page. 

Your father and Brock studied the camp for a moment. Your father seemed to buy it instantly. Brock eventually seemed to buy into your story, too, and you earnestly hoped Terk hadn’t left any tracks around that would prove your story false. 

With the excitement over and the crisis averted, you and Bucky returned to your tent, and Steve slinked back into his.

* * *

A week later, the boat arrived. A runner came to your camp early in the morning after the sun had just barely begun coloring the horizon and not ten minutes later Brock had left to go parley with the captain.

With a heavy heart, you began packing. Not only would you and Steve leave without seeing a troop of gorillas (though seeing Terk had been amazing), you were now faced with another harsh reality: leaving Bucky behind. You were going to make every effort to convince him to leave with you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that it would be futile. 

Bucky traipsed into the camp not long after Brock had left, the pants your father had lent him slung low on his slim, toned hips. One look around the camp told him all he needed to know. You’d told him that you’d have to go back to America at some point, but seeing the camp being packed up really made it sink in for Bucky. 

“You are leaving,” he said quietly from behind you, startling you into dropping the small hand mirror you’d been packing.

He reached out quickly- nearly faster than your eyes could follow- and snatched it midair before it could fall to the ground and shatter. 

“Oh goodness, Bucky. You startled me!” you said as you turned to face him, hand over your racing heart. 

“I apologize,” he said penitently as he held your mirror out for you to take. 

You smiled up at him, though it was a sad thing that showed exactly how upset you were inside. “It’s alright, Bucky. Thank you for saving my mirror,” you said, taking it from him gently. You turned back to your trunk and placed it safely between the folds of one of your dresses so that it might survive the trip back home. 

You sensed him take a step forward until he was directly behind you. You willed yourself to stay calm as you continued folding your things, placing them gently into your trunk. 

“You are leaving?” he said again, asking it as a question this time although he already knew the answer. He was so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. 

“Yes,” you breathed, heart breaking at the words. 

The silence that followed your answer was heavy and stretched on for what felt like an eternity, the only sound the whisper of fabric brushing against fabric as you packed. 

You nearly jumped in surprise once again when he took one of your hands in his. He turned you slowly to face him and you had to crane your neck to gaze up into his stunning blue eyes. He searched your face for a moment before he spoke.

“I will take you to them.”

Your eyebrows practically shot up to your hairline. “What?” you asked, confused.

“My family. The gorillas. I will take you to see them. And Steve. Only you two. Not Brock or your father,” he said as his thumb ran over the back of your hand in soothing circles. 

A grin lit up your features. This was it. Everything you and Steve had been working towards for months… No, years. 

Why did it feel so empty?

“I’d like that very much, Bucky.”

* * *

An hour and one wheezing Steve later and you were in the heart of the troop. Bucky had introduced you to the female gorilla who raised him and she groomed your hair for a long while, making quiet, happy cooing noises that made you smile. According to Bucky, she liked you. 

Steve was showing Terk how to draw and thus far she’d succeeded in making a beautiful collection of squiggles. The other gorillas came and went and they really did treat Bucky like family. Seeing him interact with them was a sight to behold. 

You could never tear him away from them. They were his family. 

But then a terrifying roar from a huge silverback sent the troop scattering to the brush and you nearly screamed in horror as it made a beeline for you and Steve, only to be tackled by Bucky. 

* * *

The last half hour had been a nightmare. Bucky nearly died fighting Kerchak, the silverback male; the protector and leader of the troop. Kerchak had raised his fists to land the final blow, only to be shot and killed by Brock before he could finish Bucky off.

Apparently Brock had followed your tracks to the troop and now planned on cashing in big money for some gorilla pelts. 

Bucky was livid (as were you and Steve) and, with help in the form of a distraction from you and Steve, Bucky had been able to outsmart and outmaneuver Brock, who now hung from his neck from some vines in the forest. 

Steve, accompanied by Terk, went back to your half-packed camp and found your father unconscious in your tent with a decently sized welt on the back of his head. They’d arrived a short time later and your father stared around the gorilla troop with eyes as big as saucers. 

With their silverback gone, you knew they needed Bucky now more than ever… and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Bucky to go back to America with you. 

Good thing for both of you, Bucky thought of a better idea.

He walked slowly up to you, slight limp in his step from his fights, and took your hands in his. “Stay with me.”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked, thinking you’d heard wrong. 

“Stay here. With me,” he said, eyes earnest and hopeful as he stared down at you. 

Your jaw hit the ground. You hadn’t even considered that option. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, and you found that you’d been rendered speechless. Bucky studied you closely, eyebrow raised. Finally, you turned your head to look at your father. One look at him and Steve told you they’d heard everything. 

“What are you looking at me for? You’re a grown woman. You can make your own decisions, (Y/N),” your father said jovially, grinning from ear to ear. Steve was nodding eagerly and you were pretty sure he was already planning out how to stay with you, Bucky, and the gorillas, too.

You turned back to Bucky, a huge grin on your face. “Yes! Yes, I’d like that very much, Bucky!” you said, nodding eagerly. 

A smile broke out on Bucky’s face and he ducked down and kissed you gently on the lips. 

All thoughts were expelled from your mind by the contact and you swore a storm was about to start, the air was so electric. You broke away after only a moment, looking sheepish. 

“I read about that in one of the books… I wanted to-”

You silenced him by standing on your toes and capturing his lips with yours once more, arms going up to wrap around his neck. His arms found their way around your waist and he lifted you with ease as you deepened the kiss. 

Oh, tongues back in New York would wag. The daughter and son of the famous Doctor Archimedes Q. (Y/L/N) stayed in the jungle with some wild man. 

But let them talk. You had everything you’d ever need right here. 

 

## The End


End file.
